When does it get easier?  Life, that is.   It feels like everything is a fight.  Things that should not be a fight are a fight. I have been in a rut lately. I feel lost Without much direction and the pressures that would make others panic. This makes little sense to most, but I am at a crossroads. I am busy at work, which is great and keeps me busy, but I do not need to be active. I need chaos. Chaos means no need to make decisions and prioritize my tasks.  Chaos nulls those decisions and naturalizes them, making them more of a reaction than a decision. Because we all know I am incapable of making decisions.

            It’s amazing how decision-making can paralyze me.  The most straightforward decision tends to take on a life of its own, becoming momentous.  Deciding what to eat for dinner takes on meaning comparable to a pivotal life decision.  As though eating the wrong item will render life-changing consequences. A crisis, on the other hand, is my specialty.  When my child splits his head open tobogganing, and the neighbour is losing their mind, I calmly put an ice pack on his head and announce we are heading to the walk-in clinic for stitches while the neighbour is hyperventilating in a paper bag.

            Not sure how this makes any sense other than the probability that the book “Don’t Sweat the small stuff” was probably written for me because the small stuff is all I sweat. Like many, I have experienced moments when life seems unbearable over the years.  Those days when you wish you had not even gotten out of bed. Those are my “Are you fucking kidding me?” days, the days that thank God I have my partner of 25 years; he helps keep me sane.  Those days when I wish I could get a hug from my mom or Ferg (my father-in-law), who would look at each other, then at me and tell me things will just be ok. But they both left us eight months apart. 

            A few years after my mom passed, I had an awful day, you name it, and it happened that day. I felt more than defeated, and I commented that I wished I could call my mom for a hug and her reassurance that it would all be ok. I believe in spirits; I have had too many strange things happen over the years not to believe. That night I had a crazy dream.  In the dream, my mom was there. She hugged me and assured me everything would be ok.  It was so real.  I woke up and could still feel her hug; I slept with the lights on for about a week afterward. 

            I have a crazy imagination. I read a book and dream about it.  I watch a movie or a tv show, and it finds its way into my dreams.  I have woken in the middle of the night thinking I am still at work and fight to stay awake for fear of being caught sleeping on the job.

Once again, I lost the purpose of this post.  I think it is about the quirks of my brain and how it often feels like it does not work like other people’s brains. Who knows. Maybe it is a rambling post; I am not sure.  I do know that I do not think I took my medication this morning. Again, I am unsure because I cannot remember. It feels like I am a hot mess…today. I guess thats normal when you forget to take the medication that is supposed to help you remember… what a shit show.